


More happy than not Fan Sequel : Bren's baby

by babybrendan



Category: Adam Silvera, More Happy Than Not - Adam Silvera
Genre: LGBT, M/M, teenage dad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrendan/pseuds/babybrendan
Summary: What happens when Brendan from more happy than not has a baby?I swear to god this is not a MrPregIt's the second book of my MHTN fanfiction. While his sort of boyfriend Me-Crazy is still in prison Brendan is dealing with a baby that Simone had left him after her death. How's he handling it? Find out!





	1. Chapter 1

A/N:  Sup sup everyone. This is the sequel to Brendan The Juvie-et. If you already forgot about it here's a recap: Frank Peterson is dead, Brendan and Dave are somewhat in a relationship now but unofficially. And yeah the rest will be explained. 

And holy shit it's really hard to write Aaron's friends for some reason so I'll just do the best I can which might end up making them seem too out of character. I feel like my writing style is not fit for that but whatever lmfao

 

 

 

 

Once he was one foot back into freedom he made a second quick decision; Everything that happened in juvie, stays the fuck in juvie. That included getting butt fucked, that included giving out blowjobs, that included nearly getting raped and nearly turning said rape into a consented fuck between two dealers, actual rape, and that ALSO included getting fucking butt fucked by fucking Me-Crazy. 

Brendan ran a exasperated hand through his curls, tugging them slightly before letting go. He'd jogged all the way to Pelham park without a pause and once he got there the familiarity of it all felt odd; The size of the world seemed to have expanded since being locked up in a twenty by twenty cell for a week long and his brain lagged to adjust to the new space. 

Just fifteen minutes ago the officer that let him go gave him a half-assed pat on the back, said "Let's hope our paths don't cross again. Live long." and he was free to go. 

Whatever he'd expected would happen after your time was over, Brendan was glad this was what actually happened. No long holds, just getting your ass kicked in front of the door and you're off to continue the lifestyle of a delinquent. And gladly so.

Brendan got all his shit handed to him in a big ziplock bag which included some spare money, his belt, his watch, and his phone which he immediately used to ring up some messages before he landed on Aaron—The real Aaron's—chat.

Since there was only the last message was from before the beat up and it was Aaron asking where he was Brendan had some bad thought dawning up in his mind. Maybe he was dead? Well that wouldn't make too much sense because they didn't prolong Dave's sentence to a lifetime. 

Brendan lowered himself on the blue bench nearest to him without taking his eyes off the screen. Shit, it wasn't even like a message would just pop up out of nowhere telling him the same words Aaron Sotoson the total wacko had told him back in juvie: It's okay, Brendan. 

But the irrational side of his brain was working in high speed then which quickly lead to another unconventional thing—He began spamming the chat with a shit load of apologies. 

 

Holly shit dude, that day, we didn't mean to. For real.

Like no, this was an accident.

Not tryna make myself look less guilty but I swear to god that was not meant to happen

...Like that

I'm fucking sorry, A. 

Dave's sorry too, he's been beating up people in Juvie to take his guilt out there ever since! Fuck.

Meant Me-Crazy, not the other assholes. 

Why did you hug that turd?!!!!!!!!!!!

 

When that was over he blacked out the screen, enclosed the phone in both hands and put his hands pressed between his thighs, then he took in a giant gulp of air—everything in one spastically quick moment.

And then, Brendan just reclined against the bench and gnawed at the inside of his cheek. He didn't have anywhere to attend to, he could literally just chill here till it got dark and nobody would notice. 

He could sit here and watch those dumb birds carrying dried grass in their beaks as they flew over to a trash can and contemplated wether they should build their nest their. And their eyes were so round and big and stupid you'd think they'd go right ahead and do it but a cyclist would race by and get their wings flapping wildly until they were out of sight, changed their mind. 

But Brendan wasn't that kinda guy who just sat somewhere beholding things, he was a man of action so he quickly made up his mind and started walking, hands buried in his grey sweatpants—Yeah, that's the piece of clothing he got framed in by the police, the other was a long-ass white shirt that went to the middle of his thigh, like some dress. 

But he liked to wear those, because when you happened to carry weed around nobody would see the suspicious outline of the ziplock bag in your pants. Just cover it up and go. 

Originally he'd planned to get straight to his court, clap some hands of his friends and go to bed sleep it off. But when he put his head into his neck he spotted a girl walking a yard before him, ass wiggling with every step inside her shiny pair of leggings. 

Some skank he fucked a while back. He didn't even have to see her face to know it's her; her red weave gave her away, so did her all-black clothes, tight and revealing, and her ass. Yeah, especially her ass. 

For a while Brendan just calmly strolled after her, feeling like some kind of secret agent the longer they shared the same path, but the closer they got to the exit the panicky he got. He felt like he needed to prove something to himself, after everything that's happened. He was quite sure yet what exactly it was, but he definitely had to. 

This was worse than a nagging boner.

"Yo, Carleigh!" Brendan shouted. "Why don't ya stop for a minute?"

Carleigh swung her head around, cherry-red locks flipping to her back. She came to a stop, propped her arm on her hip and taking the jewellery on her wrist along which shook out tinkly sounds with every movement. 

"Daddy B?!" She called with a velvety voice which sounded like a cat's purr. She squinted heavily through her sooty lashes as if the sight was truly unbelievable. "That you?"

Fucking hell what?

Brendan had no idea why Carleigh was calling him daddy. This chick must've gained some kinda daddy issue or something because he sure as hell never heard someone addressing him like that unless he was incidentally fucking their brains out. 

He decided to let that slide, after all, it could happen to everyone—He surely remembered accidentally calling his teacher daddy in elementary school!

"What's up, girl. Rushing somewhere?"

Her eyes looked left, then her tongue found its way to the purple lipstick that was generously smeared all over her lips. "Sure was until ya stopped me. What for? Parenting advice?"

Brendan laughed, pretending she had said something witty. "If you're on the pill there won't be a need to."

With that Carleigh's eyebrows nearly jumped out of her forehead. "Oh, you dirty boy! You're asking for a tap of this, ain't you?" She wiggled her butt faintly towards his direction when she said this.

"Well, let's be real, Carleigh. What else would I be asking you for."

"Alrights, why don't we go somewhere nice then?" Her eyes smiled before her lips did because they were pretending to be smug. She held an arm out and Brendan jogged over, hooking himself into it. 

He always liked uncomplicated girls, you just had to ask them something and they gave you a straight answer which was either Go to hell fuck you! or a stroll over to their apartment, preferably parent-free, to give you heaven for a few minutes. 

Carleigh was that kind of girl, but she always gave you hell, and not the kinky kind. It was just kinda bad like that, you always wanted to pull out quick because it was pure punishment down there. But it would be just enough for him to prove that one thing to himself. 

As they walked he could smell her flowery perfume fanning over to her and he felt a sense of carelessness. Maybe being freshly released from prison did that to a person, you were basically back on your feet able to commit another crime or change for the better. 

You could do anything you couldn't do in prison, and then there was Brendan falling back to his old ways, with the change of pills instead of weed in his pants and way more money than he ever had stuffed together with them in the black dog-poop bag. 

He could probably take over the world now. At least the almighty feel in his chest deluded him to think that. So much money brought so much power after all, right?

Hell yeah!

 

. . . 

 

When Brendan entered through the gate he got a shock of nostalgia. The three courts were still there like he'd never left them, and yeah it's only a week since he'd last walked and crossed the concrete here but it felt like centuries. 

A few yards away two guys sat on the green picknick table, when Brendan entered one of them jumped to his feet and shouted, "Back already, Brendan?"

For some reason Brendan thought they'd ignore him because of what he did, but In the next moment they both crowded around him; Baby Freddie who acknowledged him first and Skinny-Dave who didn't seem to have noticed that Brendan was gone to begin with. He was frowning heavily at Brendan, trying to remember what the deal was.

"You..." He trailed off, gesturing around with his crooked index finger. 

Brendan traded a glance with Freddie then looked back at Skinny-Dave and said. "Got locked up for a week. The beat up...? That tell you anything...?"

"Oh yeah!" Skinny-Dave said, jerking his finger into the sky like he was popping a balloon. "Those damn Joey Rosa's, man."

"Nah, not them. It was because of—"

"So, how's it like there? Is there really inmates raping you when you go to pick up a bar of soap?" Baby Freddie lost his patience and cut him off. 

Not that Brendan minded, you'd rather strike up a conversation with a demented old man than explaining things to Skinny-Dave who needed a whole recap of it all. From finish to start. 

"I wouldn't know," Brendan shrugged, started to fall into a slow walk and was immediately flanked by those monkeys. He really did kinda miss them, they're always a joy to be around. "You should ask Dave that when he gets back."

"No way!"

Brendan chuckled darkly. "Scared he'll throw you against the next glass door? I'm sure you're fine as long as you don't hug me first. Or do some other gay shit in front of him, for that matter." 

The right side around Brendan got quiet so he came to a stop and looked around. Baby Freddie stood a few feet behind. 

Skinny-Dave voiced his thoughts first. "Since when are you on first name basis with psycho?"

"We always were. It's just mutual now." Brendan said.

"Yeah, no, I meant, why you call him by his name."

This was starting to piss Brendan off. Like what, where they extra paranoid about another one of their friends being gay after what happened to Aaron? They could suck one. 

"Me-Crazy is a stupid name." Brendan started to walk again, not bothering if they followed him or not but after a few feet they were back at his heels.

"You didn't seem to bother about that before." Skinny-Dave persisted, scratching the poorly grown moustache thoughtfully. 

"Yeah, I'm just slowly getting sick of it you know. Also, I'm blowing him rounds and rounds now so seems only appropriate being on first name's with regulars."

The look on Skinny-Dave's face after he said this was priceless. He dropped out of every expression to give him a full face of disgust. Baby Freddie looked bothered as well but he seemed too distracted with something else to care about this outing, his eyes were squinted and he stared afar. 

"Relax, I'm just kidding." Brendan said. Jee-sus the way he couldn't hold in his laughter while they booth continued dwelling in the silence was really awkward. But he still didn't stop laughing until Baby Freddie suddenly chipped his voice in. 

"Why did you have to make a joke about the glass-doors?"

Brendan cut him a look. "What, does it make you sad?"

Baby Freddie looked uncomfortable, he kept his eyes on his shoes. "No, but Aaron's still in hospital and you're out here dragging him. Seems kinda fucked up. Did you at least apologise?"

"In fact, I did." Brendan said. "How about you be less of a wuss about it and let me say whatever the fuck I want so long as I keep it shut in front of Aaron?" He paused, then added. "And even when he's here, he never bothered when I said shit about his dad kicking it. Why should this be any different?"

"Sometimes people don't call things out they dislike." Baby Freddie said and somehow this sounded really passive aggressive, like there was more he wanted to say that didn't involve Aaron. But then he switched the topic in account of his discomfort. "A girl locked me down, by the way."

"I was not at all surprised he didn't lock her down." Skinny-Dave threw in from the side, chuckling smokily. 

"Shut up, dude. At least I have a girl. You're just a man-slut like Brendan, banging it from north to south and criss-fucking-cross. You try mocking me once your STD's add up into a whole-ass collection."

"Collection? What the fuck you talking about, there's only AIDS. Explain how that'd add into a collection."

"Chlamydia. Genital warts. Herpes. All that, maybe?"

"Oh, come on! Everyone has herpes."

"What's her name?" Brendan asked, breaking their little fight up. He kinda didn't have the nerves after juvie to listen to that bullshit, like for real it could get really annoying how Baby Freddie always got offended and felt the need to pipe in with his voice which sounded awfully close to an old heavy duty train coming to a stop with an oily screech. 

"Carleigh Rae." 

Jesus Christ. Brendan's eyes widened but Baby Freddie didn't seem to notice and went on. "Its funny how we met. I was taking the L and forgot to take my phone with me so I had no other choice but stare people down, you dig? And this smoking hot girl was supporting herself against one of those poles, she seemed pretty out of it—"

"Sounds like she was just been ultra tired after getting handed around by a few BBC's—"

"Shut up!" Baby Freddie pushed past Brendan, lurching a fist out at Skinny-Dave who lurched a harder fist at Baby Freddie and then they were fighting it out by Brendan's sneakers until Skinny-Dave finally dropped the 'Fine! Chill! She ain't that big of a bitch then! Only a teeny bit! Get off me, dickhead!'-bomb and they sorted themselves back in at either of Brendan's sides, with a bigger distance, patting their shirts clean.

For a while they walked in silence, then Skinny-Dave said he had something better to do and took off. Brendan came to a stop in front of his building, raising his brows at Freddie, his top lips sucking in his other. He was suppressing a big laugh. 

"Do you wanna hear the rest of the story, Bren?"

"Later maybe,"

Baby Freddie looked so desperate to tell the rest of the story that Brendan almost gave in out of guilt but he was really tired for some reason and just wanted to claim the couch for a few hours. 

"It's doesn't go that much longer,"

"Nah, man. Later. But you maybe want some of that?" Brendan must've felt really sorry for fucking Baby Freddie's girlfriend just an hour ago because he fished out ten of the pills from his back pocket, took Freddie's hand and slapped them on it.

Baby Freddie's jaw fell slack. "Wow, dude. Thanks!" He said. "You got them from juvie? You're dealing that instead now?"

"Purhabs, yeah."

"Skinny-Dave will be pretty bummed. He loves smoking your pot."

"Skinny-Dave can go suck it."


	2. Chapter 2

The mystery about his new nickname Daddy B was soon to be uncovered. Once Brendan climbed up the flight of stairs to his apartment he was greeted with an odd sight upon stepping in.

There was a humongous stench of alcohol lingering in the air like someone had left a few bottles of booze and vodka open overnight—perhaps even spilled it somewhere into the carpet or cushion of the couch he planned on sleeping in. And that would've been very unfortunate but it didn't look like he'd be sleeping anytime soon anyway. 

Brendan closed the door silently behind him, keeping the knob in his fist as he glanced around the living room. Something wasn't right. "Gran'pa?" He called. "G, you in here?"

It didn't seem like he was. That meant Brendan was alone with the freaking baby someone had left abandoned on the table where it sat inside a seat carrier, making shapes with his tiny hands as if he was playing with dough. 

"G, what the hell, it ain't even April yet." Finally he decided to step inside and search around for his grandfather who surely must've knocked up some girl despite behind an old fucking grandfather. 

"Do you know where that damn old man is?" Brendan asked the baby, not expecting an answer back but then he got a squeak in return. Well, he meant he didn't expect to get a coherent answer back then, that is.

Brendan went over to pick up some documents that were scattered all around the table; Some overdue bills which his Grandpa of course didn't bother to pay up, he just always waited till Brendan did the job for him; A letter from school; a retirement check; and the results from a paternity test. 

Just when Brendan scanned over the latter a picture dropped from all the paper he was holding, flopping onto the table. It was an old photo paper of Brendan which had fingerprints all over the glossy surface and was yellowing on the backside. 

Well, wasn't that just strange. 

He leaned over the table, stemming his elbows against it as he stared at his younger self in gloss; smiling widely with his toothgap showing, his eyes heavily squinted with those baby pouchy-lids, but you could still see that he was looking to the left like some sneaky maniac that just made a wicked plan. He must've been the same freaking age as this damn baby. 

His eyes cut towards the seat carrier where the baby in it was happily wiggling his feet around inside black sneakers, staring at Brendan with bright wonderment. 

When he suddenly burst out laughing it was almost like the photo Brendan just studied came to life in his little face. Holy fuck. So was this maybe not the fucked up business of his grandpa... but his own?

There was not much else he could do to figure this out so he brought the paternity test back to his sight and nearly swooned when he saw his name on it. 

No way in freaking hell was he a teenage father. Brendan slapped the document back on the table and resumed shouting after his grandfather. 

This old prick was messing with him, he surely thought a little prank that would keep him from doing stupid shit like going to juvie. 

"What the fuck, G! Just what the shit is this!?" He called, his voice echoing harshly as he walked through the hallway into the kitchen. When he reached the door he saw a figure lying sprawled out across the floor and jumped backwards. "Holy shit!"

For a moment Brendan feared this was some slack jack who broke into their house to steal and drink everything that's got an alcohol percentage in it then tragically ended up blacking out in a pool of bottles. But after quietly creeping closer towards this drunk Brendan realised with terror that this was not a drunk. This was his goddamn father. 

"D-Dad...?" Brendan called meekly, scratching his head awkwardly as he stopped by his head which was covered in tight braids that braided down to his shoulders and always looked like they hurt his scalp. He tapped him with the tip of his sneaker. "Dad, you awake?"

"Mh," 

Brendan lowered himself, squatted and brought his hand on his dad's shoulder, shaking it lightly. He knew that if he did anything too harsh or spoke up too loud the only thing he would be waking up were his dad's reflexes which would tense his arms up and hit at him so he treated him like that baby over there at the table. 

Maybe it was his father's after all and his dad just made a test on him, or something. He didn't want to think about that while his freaking dad—who was supposed to be in prison for five more years—was dazing it out on the kitchen floor.

"Daddy say something if you're awake." Brendan waited for a response but when the only thing he heard was a short snoring noise he stood up and walked over to the fridge. This was all highly weird. 

The fridge wasn't really used for anything besides alcoholic beverages or sodas so Brendan grabbed a meatball from a Tupperware container and ate it on his way to his room. But when he passed that baby again there was the slightest bits of worry forming in his guts. Who knew how long it had been here or when it was fed last. Can babies eat meatballs?

He didn't wanna end up poisoning him or something if he was wrong but it didn't seem like there were that many options left. Of course he could head down to the bodega and grab some formula but that would come off kinda weird and surely spread rumours that he had a fucking kid if Baby Freddie's mom was around. This noisy bitch. 

Also this kid was kinda funny, it would keep holding eye contact with you and thought it did you a favour by paying you attention, probably. Maybe his brain was already built out enough to be able to think like that because that's what Brendan thought this kid would think. He had some hair too, dark, black, and very curly, very playful. This would definitely be a waste if it were poisoned. 

Brendan looked at the meatball he was holding, stopped chewing the half he had in his mouth which caused him to momentarily look like a chipmunk. 

"You hungry?" Brendan called over to the kid, wagging the meatball in the air. Man, it's honestly such a shame that you had to wait five years till you could talk to a human, add ten year if you want that conversation to make sense. 

Their conversation was put on hold for the next five years so Brendan realised he had to take matters into his own hands. He walked over to the baby, hesitated then tore off a piece of meat and pressed it lightly against the toddler's mouth.

It screwed up his eyes, blocking the food by pulling his lips into a taut line that looked like a smile. 

"You're a meanie, huh?" Brendan glanced at the paternity test. "What've you got in your pants anyway? Oh, a boy then, that right? A boy named...Aaron?" 

He put on a shocked expression before he burst out laughing, cracking himself up. That would've been too funny if his name was actually Aaron, because the gay tradition he'd made up in prison thanks to Sotoson, where parents name the son they suspect to be gay Aaron. 

But whatever, he couldn't believe Simone named this critter Clyde. Because apparently that's his mother. Fucking Simone. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen her, she probably kept hidden after finding out she got a little Brendan seed growing in her belly. 

He swore if this was a prank he'd snitch his dad out on the next cop he bumped into. 

Brendan didn't force the meatball down Clyde throat but he did pick up the seat carrier and took it over with him to the bathroom. He didn't know why he decided to do it right then, the idea just flitted into his mind like a sudden breeze through an ajar window. 

He placed Clyde on the dirty laundry bin and allowed him to watch while Brendan grabbed a pair of scissors and began slaughtering into his playful curls which had grown a bit since he'd been to juvie and now met their end as they 

Needless to say, Brendan regretted this impulse decision the moment he couldn't snip off more hair because the length didn't allow that. So to remedy those awkward tuffs he brought out his dad's old clippers and buzzed it all flat and even.

And goddamn it, he looked like a total idiot. This was really stupid and impulsive of him. Why did he have to be so stupid and impulsive at times? That was a total Dave thing.

Frank Peterson's words gloomed over his mind.

'And match up to your surname.'

Smart.

Dead fucker was right. 

"God fucking damn it!" Brendan flung the clippers across the room where they bounced of harshly from the walls and landed on the tiled ground. 

For a moment this was somewhat satisfying and dimmed his frustration over this bad haircut, but the little critter in the seat carrier exploded with such high notes of wails that the frustration rebounded right back with twice the amount. 

Brendan looked around helplessly, he had no fucking idea how to calm a baby.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter kinda sounds like I'm talking from experience, but I'm really not. Maybe a little but yeah lol

 

"Hey, yo, yo, yo! Please cut the noise, all right. This was just a flying clipper, nothing more." Brendan closed the door then bend towards Clyde, frantically fumbling the tears away that spilled from him but they just kept on coming! 

He supposed it'd be a good idea to take him out of the seat and rock him but his arms were basically limp dicks so he figured that'd be a bad idea. Next moment he'd drop that thing and make him a vegetable or something. 

"Yo, please. It hurts." Brendan scrunched his face up at the high cries that tore up his ears. He decided to cover one with his finger, with the other hand he tried calming him down by petting him like a good boy dog. No use. "Alright, lets go then. I'll get you something from the kitchen."

When Brendan had the carrier dangling from his hand and his ear pressed to his shoulder to somewhat mellow the piercing cries he almost dropped the damn carrier like the limp dicks of arms he possessed and the stupid boy he was. 

All because there was a figure standing in the middle of the room which he mistook for a bulgair for a second time that day. 

Holy shit Brendan needed some serious help to sort himself out, how could he mistake his father for danger not once but twice? After all his dad was very nice unless you messed with the wrong cords and got him flying after you in a fury. 

"Dad?" Brendan said, placing the carrier back on the table before he turned to his dad, folding his arms defensively in front of his chest.

Damien Brown Smart, the brave man who was even braver now after presumably escaping prison to face his son respectively, squinted at Brendan like he had trouble seeing him then slowly staggered up to him, even slower he nodded. 

"Yessum, boy." He put a giant hand on Bren's head like a claw machine gripping a teddy bear and pushed it back a little which used to feel like an affectionate gesture in the past but now more of like he was tryna reel up what they had and failed. 

"Two dad's here now, huh?" He chuckled dryly, pointing a pale thumb to the baby. "Some crazed chick ran up the door that day, brought the message it's yours. Better take care of it, boy. The baby Momma's dead."

"She's dead? Who is she?"

Dad gave him a short look of disgust then chuckled again. This kinda reminded him of Dave for some odd reason, how he always laughed, at like everything crude, until he wasn't laughing anymore and hit him instead. "Sonja something."

"I never fucked a Sonja—I mean," He corrected himself awkwardly. "I don't know a Sonja, was it Simone maybe?" So it really was Simone after all. Well damn.

"Simone! Yeah! Rest easy, baby girl." Dad closed his eyes, kissed the tips of his fingers and pointed skyways with them. "Hand me a pint, will ya son? This sum heavy stuff, gotta drink it up."

"Didn't you just black out drinking all them bottles empty tho...?"

"Don't question it, son. That's adult stuff and you're still a kid. A baby don't change that fact, now get your sweet ass in the kitchen and fetch me some,"

"Sure..." He turned to go for the kitchen, then hesitated and looked back to his dad. "Um, the baby... did you–" He rubbed his nose. "You know, feed him?"

"Feed him, all right. Surprisingly not out of practice yet after sixteen years when I feed your brassy mouth. You were some evil child, always crying always hitting me. Loved ya anyway, all right, son. Now gimme the pint, love me too for once, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Hey!"

"Huh?"

"Say you love me to, son. Wanna hear them words coming out of your ungrateful mouth for once. Mouth I've feed all them years."

"I love you, dad."

"Yeah, sure you do, little fuck. Sure you do. Hey, whatcha be standing there for for hours? Get your bubble butt into the kitchen, and get me a goddamn pint. Your dad is depressed."

"You are?"

"What I tell you just now about not questioning stuff? Depression some adult stuff, might catch it too some day. Especially if you won't bring me that drink now and I'll get mad pissed atchu. Now go get it, B-ball, all right?"

Brendan turned to leave but then hesitated again. He looked back at his dad who was laboriously climbing down on the couch. "Dad? Can you watch him for a while? I'll get you the drink, all right. But I got some stuff to do."

"That's how you young daddy's are! Think you can still be out and about acting like irresponsible sociopaths."

"So, can you...?"

"Fuckin' hell, be here all day anyway. Do whatever the hell you want, B-ball boo. Just get me the damn drink already. This depression sure is spreadin' like a shroud." 

 

. . . 

 

His dad didn't let him leave the house until he changed little me's diapers. It was pretty gross but Brendan supposed that was just karma coming at him after he farted and spiked a storm of shit at his dad's face when he was that age. 

Perhaps that's why he had a certain distaste towards Brendan, but thankfully that distaste never showed when Brendan was dealing drugs, beating some poor fuckers up, or did something wrong in general. 

His dad didn't give a shit in particular unless he was being gay or a little bitch crying about stuff, and yeah he just didn't give a shit, that was the deal about his dad. He spent his two shits on his mom and grandpa already, so there wasn't much left for Brendan. 

And it was kinda funny because his mom wasn't even that much of a looker, she had her fathers genes and looked rather masculine, acted so anyway. 

Brendan always wondered what his dad saw in her, not that Brendan didn't love her, but if he was his dad he would've thought ten times before marrying that unbearable attitude. That's all.

Brendan on the other hand got his looks from his daddy-o who got his looks from his grandpa-o and they were what Frank mentioned when he was threatening Brendan with rape; feminine looking. His family got it all twisted in some way. 

Once out of the house he didn't even stop to look wether his friends were out or not. He kept it going until he was standing in front of Dave's building, glaring up at the long stretch of windows. 

Luckily for him Dave lived on the first floor so he didn't have to risk breaking his neck when he jumped a cinder block and hoisted himself up on the window ledge he, sitting on it in the next moment. He let his legs dangle freely in the air, prying the window open as if he was breaking into his own house. 

He couldn't see inside because the blinds were pulled down all the way so it was sort of a risk, but in the spur of the moment he didn't bother about that all too much.

He'd done this once when his dad didn't give him anything for Christmas because he did something stupid so Brendan decided to give himself some presents by breaking into Aaron's, Freddie's and Skinny-Dave's house to get himself little somethings. Dave's window was the same as theirs so in a matter of seconds he had the window open and barrelled inside. 

Dave's room was kinda depressing. When you walked in and took in the dullness of it you could just kinda understand why he's that crazy. It would make Brendan crazy too, he thought.

He plummet onto the mattress that was in the middle of the room and locked his hands under his knee, chewing the inside of his lip. 

There was a fat, greyish TV staring right at him three feet away, and an open closet which looked like a drunk would stagger out from between the hangers any moment, hushing you out of the room, and while you made a run for it, he'd collapse onto the mattress and let go off a green-glass bottle which would clatter loudly on the hard cement floor. That's how that place looked like. 

Brendan hadn't been here for the first time but he just never really bothered to think about this all until now.

After a while of taking in the sight he walked over to the closet. Being in Dave's room made him miss him way stronger than he had before. So he remembered what he did in prison whenever he missed Dave and did just the same thing; He buried his nose into the forest of hanged clothes and took in a giant breather. 

But sadly the scent had already waned away and left was only the dusty smell of old clothing. Surprisingly though Dave's closet didn't offer a shortage of branded clothes tho, he had plenty of those. 

Probably stolen or fakes but as he rummaged through them he found something nice. He stood on his tiptoes, sticking his tongue out as he pulled out a bucket hat from a pile of clothes all tossed together in the upper shelf. 

He walked over with it to a mirror that was leaning against the wall, glass shattered like spiderweb lines. It was just a black hat like from those old gangster movies where the thugs in them went around spraying crummy walls with graffiti paint. It was black, had 'Raised in da Bronx' written all over it, and really damn ugly. 

But Brendan could pull it off. No doubt would cops look twice when they looked his direction because it made him look way more sketchy but he could handle that. 

He threw amateurish gang signs at the reflection and brought out a mischievous smirk which seemed way darker with the front of the hat covering half of his eyes, throwing shadows at the area underneath it. 

At least he didn't have to embarrass himself with that ass-licking buzzcut.


	4. Chapter 4

"You just leave little Kyle here and don't bother coming home until four hours later? Where the hell've you been, son?"

Brendan closed the door behind him and looked at his dad like he'd just seen a ghost. Then his expression fell back into nonchalance. "Dad, his name's Clyde. Also, I had to get some bank. Those bills don't pay up themselves."

"You won't bother about those no more. Your big daddy's here now to handle that tough stuff."

"Really?!" Brendan face immediately brightened. If there was no cash that he had to fork out of his savings to pay for rent he was basically rich. 

But Damien put a quick stop to his exhilaration when he went on. "No need to feel yourself lucky so quick. That child's gonna cost you a fortune. What do you think will all those diapers cost? And that's only the beginning; formula, clothes, dummies, etc. You got a job, son?"

"I sell weed."

"Just what I thought, delinquent."

Brendan rolled his eyes as he passed him and stopped in front of Clyde. He felt a smile gracing his lips when he looked down at him despite being told he would need to spend all his earnings on this little critter. He was never rich to begin with so it didn't really felt like he was losing something. 

"Like father like son," Brendan countered finally. He felt the presence of his dad next to him, the stench of alcohol deep and lingering in his breath. 

"When yo Clyde grows up, and he deals, you gonna let him tell you likewise?"

"Yup." Brendan said nonchalantly. "There's people that sell worse things than drugs; like, banana slicers and dog shaped dog whistles." He laughed at the memory, then he remembered something else: Aaron hadn't texted him back yet, at least he didn't get a message. 

With a feeling of a stone sinking down his stomach he pulled out his phone and checked the messages. Gracious god, he did see it after all, but didn't bother to text back. He put the phone back, feeling at least relieved that this little shit was still here on earth breathing. 

Brendan Smart was not a murderer!

"Well, time to man up now son, your duty as a responsible parent begins here." Damien Smart said as he slouched towards the kitchen, arms swinging lazily. 

Brendan ignored him. He still felt like celebrating after finding out that he didn't kill his best friend. He leaned into Clyde's face and squinted mischievously, and the little monkey squinted back. 

"No need," Brendan called after his dad, but looked at Clyde. "I'm plenty man. I can handle a baby," He brought a finger under the baby's cheek and tickled it, adding with a coo, "I can handle a baby like you!" 

 

. . . 

 

Brendan left the house wearing a really baggy jacket in the same black as the baby sling he'd wrapped around underneath it. It was almost enough to make Clyde less visible upon first glance but he still kept his head down and his pace quick because if he gave people more time to stare at him they'd see it's some thug carrying a kid, and if his friends saw it they'd know it was him. 

He figured it could be pretty easy covering up the fact that he had a kid. At least for a few years, enough time till his friends grew a pair and wouldn't act immature about it. Or maybe one of them would become a dad themselves; his bet was on Baby Freddie. With that girlfriend he had it was kind of a given. 

But the thing was she'd get pregnant by some other guy and not tell him and Freddie would be too much of a pussy to ask for proof he was the dad so he'd just end up raising someone else's. 

Brendan peeked through the glass door of the local Good Foods store before he opened it with his foot, keeping one arm around Clyde like a seatbelt. 

The body sling was already pretty secure but he kinda felt paranoid that some rowdy dudes would bump into him—bump into Clyde—-and squish him or something. He definitely didn't want a baby getting smushed to–yeah. 

As he strolled over to the kid aisle, he kept his head down so his bucket hat covered his face generously, and felt something wetting his chest. It took him a while to realise that this was Clyde drooling at him, even longer it took him to realise that he was trying to reach his nipple over his shirt or something. 

Brendan couldn't hold himself back to whisper something to him. "I'm not yo mum, but imma get you formula, all right. No worries, punk."

His eyes darted up, scanning the area in case someone had caught him. When everything seemed calm—Mohad stocking up on snacks with his back to him; a few unfamiliar punks lurking around the back not paying him attention—he dedicated himself on finding the right stuff. 

All he had to get were some baby wipes, formula, and diapers but he ended up looking for completely different things first which he didn't need, like commercial baby food, a variety of pacifiers, protein bars, ramen noodles...what the hell he somehow ended up at a spot that was anywhere but the baby aisle. And then he kinda forgot what he actually needed to buy altogether. Well damn. 

The baby wipes!

He went back to grab them but once his hand touched the velvety smooth package another hand made a grab for it at the same time. Initially he froze, then tried to play it off cool, lowering his voice so nobody got any ideas, "My bad, bro. Go ahead it's yours."

"Awe, no problem, man." Brendan's eyes widened under his hat, thinking he knew that voice from somewhere. A sideways glance to where it came from confirmed his suspicions: It was Nolan, shopping for his two girls at the most uncalled of times. 

Brendan pretended he was rocking Clyde, keeping both arms around him and his head down. He waited till Nolan happily collected all the shit he needed and strolled to the counter, but midway he turned on his heels and paced all the way back to Brendan. 

"Bren? That you?"

Shit. Brendan cleared his throat, this fake low voice was really taking a strain on him. "Must got the wrong guy. I'm Kev-"

The store came to full view again as Nolan nudged the hat from Brendan's head. "Don't kid me, I know it's you, dude. Since when did you got a kid?"

"Uh, since a year already."

"And you never tell anybody?"

"Well, I didn't even know it myself till now. Simone apparently kicked it and left me with this kid."

"Shit, dude."

They kept in silence for a moment. Mohad stomped a cartoon flat from across the store then picked it up and carried it over to the back. "Yeah, so. Can we keep this between us? Don't want the others to know."

Nolan furrowed his brows. "What you mean you don't want anybody to know? You plan on keeping him locked up in your basement the other times you're not sneaking him to da bodega?"

Brendan squirmed. He hadn't really thought this through until know. He just assumed he'd keep him home till he was old enough for daycare or something. "Well, I guess tell anybody then. But only if they ask."

"That's better." Nolan seemed satisfied with that answer and began openly beholding Clyde, as if he was some kind of purple gecko he couldn't believe he was seeing. Which was just right, Brendan's baby boy was kind of a big deal. 

"Yeah, got any tips for a single dad?"

Nolan nodded slowly, shifting his gaze from Clyde for a second to look at the punks as they came from the back and  passed by them, then his eyes were back on Clyde. Nolan had funny looking eyes, they were sunken in under the brow bone, amberish brown, and lacked a bit of depth. 

"Always throw birthday parties and give 'em hell there. The rest will fall to your girl." He said finally. 

"I don't gotta girl. Like I said, she's dead. Six feet under. Out cold." 

Man, sometimes Brendan wondered why he was friends with stupid people like him. But he supposed it did have some perks, like then at least nobody was smarter than himself, which was just ideal of course. He went to pick up his hat while Nolan talked, putting it back on. 

"Then get one. She'll deal with the other stuff. Being a single dad is just asking for misery."

"Doubt some chick would just willingly settle for a daddy."

"Well, duh!" Nolan called, alarming Mohad behind them who was back at the counter. He probably thought they were gonna steal something any moment. "That's why you gotta knock her up too, give your kid a sibling."

That was kinda messed up. Brendan fake-smiled and nodded. "Guess that's the plan,"

"Wanna come over and let your—What's his name?—Let your Clyde mingle with my girls?"

"Maybe another time."

Nolan told him he could come by any time then strolled over to Mohad and payed for his shit. Brendan dwelled a little longer in the baby aisle with Clyde making soft grunts as he slumbered against his chest, then went to paid as well. 

It was kinda funny because Mohad even bothered to bag his things up for Brendan and stuck a calendar into it as well, apparently now that he's a parent people bother to give him free shit like this.

Back at home he almost threw the calendar away but an idea came to his mind so he didn't. He sat down with it on the couch, placed it on his lap and circled a red line on day 25 of march with a fat marker. Before that date he wrote in a squiggly handwriting; Calm before the storm.


	5. Chapter 5

Only four more days till his boy came back and it didn't seem as awful of a wait while he had his other boy with him. Brendan had Clyde propped on his bed, letting him watch while he was getting ready. 

In the last weeks that had kind of become a habit, he put Clyde somewhere to sit, on tables, the laundry bin, countertops or whatever, while he was busy scurrying around like some spooked chicken running from one end of his cage to another, making the gritty ground underneath it rattle. 

Brendan picked up one of his more lavish clothes, a loose shirt in red with the word REBEL printed on it, put it on and threw a dark jacket over it. He was just kinda flexing today, also ever since his haircut ( If you can even call it that. It's more of a hairfuckup ) he put in extra effort on looking sharp. 

To top it all off he put on the bucket hat and adjusted a black supreme shoulder bag around his torso which was small enough to carry some weed around in it, so he did. 

FLEXING, boys!

In the background he was blasting some of his rap music and Clyde didn't seem to mind. The opposite actually, he wagged his lil feet around and gazed around the room with his mouth hanging open as if he was seeing LSD creatures. His baby boy definitely had the right vibes going.

After checking himself in the mirror for an exaggerated amount of time where he made sure he looked good in all poses, he strolled over to Clyde who was sitting in the seat carrier on the bed and crouched before him. He took his feet into his hands and squeezed them firmly.

"You ready to meet those monkey's? Wanna be part of the crew? I know you do! Yeah, yeah, you do!"

Clyde giggled softly and Brendan kissed his little toes as they tried to wiggle out of his hold. He already told the other guys about him because he thought, fuck it it's better to just tell them instead of letting them dwell in their own opinion and give them time to act out any sketchy plans. ( No shade towards Aaron who did the same thing by being sneaky of his sexuality and playing with other dudes. )

And yeah since their reaction were rather dismissive and dodgy he didn't bother bringing Clyde around because what good would that be? But today he wanted to just sit down on the bench with him outside and watch the guys playing if they're out and maybe that'd spark some interst in them, who knew. 

Once he reached the bench he already spotted his friends a few yards away, throwing a handball around like maniacs in a pool. Brendan put Clyde next to him and propped a cigarette between his lips like the good example he was for his boy.

But then when he held the flame at the other end of the cigarette he glanced at Clyde and stopped in the act. That was kinda shitty, he definitely didn't want his baby turning into a vegetable, or whatever smoke would do to a baby. Probably nothing good. Whatever. 

He heard that the smacking noises of handball colliding with bod had stopped and looked back at his friends. They were watching him, then shouting. 

"Pull out game weak, Brendan?"

"I swear no!" Brendan shouted back as they trudged over to him. "I pulled out just fine. Clyde Smart here is just a trooper. None you can do about that."

"Like Chuck Norris? They always be talking about that Chuck Norris was aborted but then Chuck Norris was born anyway, or something." Skinny-Dave said then stared into a void as if he was trying to think through what he'd just said. 

"Nah, man. Totally like John Cena." Brendan said. "My girl was like I ain't preggers and Clyde comes from her womb walls like You sure bout that?"

"Fun story." Deon said, staring at Clyde like a hawk figuring out his pray on a tree branch. "Let's see him then. Can I hold...?"

"Sure, don't you dare drop him tho."

Wow, that's way more than Brendan had expected they'd do. Holding him! They'd probably kiss him next and pay all the expenses that go out on diapers.

Deon snorted. "After your story I doubt that'd faze him any."

"Whatever. Be careful with ma boy, you punk bitch."

Deon reached into the seat carrier, bringing his hands under Clyde's armpits. Clyde looked pretty frightened to be picked up by him, his eyebrows furrowed over his eyes which were looking opposite direction like he was looking for a way out. It was kinda funny but also made Brendan's heart cramp into itself. He wanted to take him back, but allowed Deon to adjust him in his arms, and smiled forcedly. 

Okay, this was kinda worse than he expected it to be.

When Deon started smiling at Clyde it got Brendan blood boiling silently, the sight of someone else enjoying his boy was kinda maddening. 

Nobody seemed to notice his inner tumult tho because they all crowded around Deon to get a sight in. Well Skinny-Dave and Fat-Dave anyway, Baby Freddie just stood around, visibly squirming, but made a big show of caring anyway, his smile almost topping Brendan's on the fake-scale. 

His discomfort played out good on Brendan's suffering though; it turned his anger into amusement. At least one thing was going right. 

"Yo, he's so cute." Deon said, rocking him slightly. Brendan couldn't watch this, he looked back at Baby Freddie instead who was also looking for a way out like the big baby he was. They chose his nickname so well. Brendan didn't even remember who came up with it, but they probably all came up with it the first time they've seen Freddie enter through those gates, walking behind his mom while holding her hands.

Skinny-Dave frowned at Deon, "You be calling Bren cute too with that, you know. He looks exactly like him."

"No homo." Deon added, "Your kids cute, Bren. If you were fifteen years younger you might've been cute too."

Brendan rolled his eyes and reclined against the picknick table, crossing his arms. "No shit. Good genes run in my family."

"And away from your mumsy." Nolan countered swiftly. 

Brendan's mouth hung open at this but then he noticed Baby Freddie coming over and sitting down next to him. He looked like he had something really important to say. 

"So," Baby Freddie began. "You want to hear the rest of the story now? You said maybe later, and it's kinda later now."

"Um..."

"Baby Freddie nobody gives a shit about your big love story," Nolan called, getting some of the guys sniggering. "Brendan's punishment of his hookup is here, we got better things to keep us busy."

"Look, he's tryna touch his brows with his lashes!" Skinny-Dave called which made Nolan raise his brows at Freddie as if he'd just gotten proven his point. 

Skinny-Dave turned to Brendan. "Where ish your girlsy then?" He asked. "Will she come and breast feed him in front of us? Bet his mom is a big hooker, or no no no! Even better: That manwo Nate."

"What's a manwo?" Baby Freddie asked, genuinely confused. 

"A woman who acts like a man. Where ishe, Bren?"

"Told ya: dead. And Simone is his mom, not one of my clients."

" 'n you're not blowing tissues non stop? How come?"

"Why should I? All we had was sex. Would you shed a tear for some slut?"

Deon's face came up with a shocked expression. "You call your kids mom a slut? Sick!" Deon was cracking up laughing by now. 

"I didn't call her one. I'm just saying you wouldn't cry for someone you slept with just for sex, would you?"

"Nah. Guess not."

"Well there you got your point then." After a while Brendan asked them if they could watch Clyde for a little while in turn for some freebies. Skinny-Dave perked up at this first. 

"How much you talking about?"

"I don't know. Three?"

"Dude, you're going all in."

Brendan shrugged and crammed in his shoulder bag. "Babysitting sure pays out. So you down?"

"Hell yeah!"

Brendan frowned at the others. Nolan and Deon nodded, Baby Freddie didn't look so sure, his face was all bricked up. 

"Sure, we can take care of lil Kyle for a while." Deon said. 

"Dude! Why is everyone mistaking his name for Kyle? His name's Clyde." Brendan looked pretty flustered but then he stood up and got into Deon's pockets, sneaking in a joint and did the same with Nolan and Skinny-Dave. That was just his way of doing it without other people noticing he was dealing in public. 

"You know the drill; If anything happens to Clyde you better watch yourself once Me-Crazy is out."

 

. . .


	6. Chapter 6

Once Brendan parted from the guys to let them alone with Clyde, he planned to head down to search for Aaron, get him to talk but he kinda chickened out because Aaron sure had some hard punches in his fists and Brendan didn't seem to fond on letting them clock his chin again.

Aaron was back from hospital since last week and had greeted Bren with a rather rough introduction: He kicked him in the balls, went on shouting all those things to him and then once he was staring blankly at Brendan Brendan tried to talk some sense into him but something strange was happening, Aaron kept forgetting moment after moment. 

This still haunted his mind so he tried not to think much about it, help Aaron if he let him ( He didn't ) but don't go out talking more to him because it was really creepy in a way. 

He knew that this was partly his fault but he had other responsibilities now, his baby boy, so if Aaron was in a state of amnesia where he constantly forgot about Brendan's apologies and went on kicking at him he figured it would put him in too much danger himself and he didn't want Clyde to fall back on his dad and grandfather, because that'd kinda suck...—So, distance it was.

That's the story of how Brendan ended up at Dave's again. He barged in through his window, noticed that it was still in the same slightly-opened condition he'd left it and when his feet touched down with the cement ground his room didn't look any different either. It was almost like his parents didn't even bother to check up on him, and they probably didn't. 

This was kinda sad. Brendan shrugged and continued walking over to his closed. He didn't even know what made him do this but he grabbed as many clothes as he could in both arms and threw them all over to his bed—his mattress. 

It was a nice pile. He sculpted it a little till it looked somewhat like a log before he sidled up to it and buried his face in it, taking in a giant breather. Kinda disappointing, it didn't smell the slightest of Dave, it was all freshly washed. 

Maybe his mom did bother to put it in the washer right after Dave was framed by the police and that's why Brendan couldn't notice the difference, because he was gone at that time too. 

If that was it he couldn't give them shit for it, who would bother checking up every single day for a month and more?

Cuddling those clothes kinda made it all worse, he just realised how much he actually missed that bastard, but now that he started it he couldn't stop himself. He wrapped his arms tighter around the clothes, almost suffocating himself the way he pressed his face into it.

The door slammed open, hitting the wall loudly. Brendan immediately jumped to his feet, staring wide-eyed at the intruder, which wasn't much of an intruder because that was what Brendan was, but still. 

It was Dave's dad, holding a rifle at him with a blunt cocking out from his dry lips. "What's that? A bulgar? What kinda bulgar snuggles with clothin' instead of stealin' em?" He barked at him, inching forward. 

Recognition washed over his face, but it didn't make him any less grumpy. "Hey, I know you, boy! I know you, damn right and straight. You're one of his crummy friends! And also one of the shittier ones while we're at it. You're probably the reason my son turned out like shit, you being a bad influence on him 'n all. My poor little fucker! He could've turned out so good, I tell yah. The next president, football player or boxer, a real star. Now he's just a poor little fucker!"

He spat at the mirror, allowing it to slide down over the cracks in a yellow-tint. The spit of a chain-smoker. "What the hell are you doing here, got your ass kick'd out of your house? Guess what, you ain't definitely not staying here either. One critter is bad enough to have, only got three more days without him to enjoy."

Brendan found his voice again. "Oh, no, sir. I-I was just leaving. He owed me some money, you see...But I don't need to anymore. Yeah."

"Then get the hell out." Dave's dad barked. And Brendan didn't need to hear this twice. He fled towards the window, making a frantic dive-bomb out of it, running his feet sore from there on.

 

. . . 

 

The next day Brendan must've really pissed his dad off. Brendan was eating porridge because Clyde was eating porridge and he didn't want to clean two bowls so they ate out of one together. 

And this must've looked really lovely and sweetful to Damien who sat across the table scowling as he watched because he slammed his newspaper on the table and told Brendan to get a life outside of parenthood and also told him he was gonna watch Clyde instead. 

And then he contradicted himself right after as he added, "You kids only think about yourselves, you'd rather play than take care of another life."

But this was a great offer so Brendan didn't protest and left the fuck out of there. It wasn't because he didn't like taking care of Clyde, he actually enjoyed it, but doing that all around the clock was probably not healthy anyways. So he gladly joined his friends playing manhunt in the third court without any feelings of remorse. 

"Why didn't ya bring your infant?" Deon asked him when he approached. 

"My dad's taking care of him, figures."

"Of course." Deon said. "Anyway, Baby Freddie's it. You get the daddy privilege."

"Awesome."

And then Nolan's voice came up, sounding really muffled. "Hey! Why didn't I get one? He's only got one, I got two fucking kids in the lot!"

Skinny-Dave uttered a really ugly laugh. "Cuz you got girls and Bren's got the cute one." And then he took off to find a spot and Nolan kinda turned out to be the hunter because he had a full tank of pissed energy, busting after Skinny-Dave like a steaming engine.

Deon nodded at Brendan and they parted to find a spot. At first it all went well with Brendan, he found a decent spot behind a skate ramp, and hugged his knees to his chest so he was fully covered. 

But then Baby Freddie came out of nowhere, scared the shit out of him, and had the audacity to hide beside him, and as if that wasn't enough already he kept pestering Brendan about his stupid love story. 

"Please, okay? I hold it quick, so there's this girls, right? And she really hot, I swear to god oh my god, and we met—"

"Dude! Fucking shut up!" Brendan jumped to his feet, pushing his eyebrows together. He wasn't even thinking then, he just spit his words out. 

"I don't give a shit, all right? It's just a stupid girl! She won't stick with you anyway, don't you get it? Girls like her cheat on guys like you and I know I'm right because she gladly fucked me when I asked her to."

Brendan's face was all scrunched up for a while and Baby Freddie looked like someone had just killed his cat in front of him. He almost felt bad for him, and then he did. Brendan's face softened. "Oh fuck."

Baby Freddie's lip began to tremble. And fuck, Brendan felt himself drowning in his guilt, but couldn't utter an apology. He kinda pulled a Me-Crazy then because he just couldn't fucking apologise. 

It was just really awkward and shit, so he did the only thing that his body could manage and that was to get the hell out of there. At least Baby Freddie wouldn't be caught then, this was a bomb-ass hiding spot. Maybe Brendan got that from Dave too, finding all the right hiding spots. 

But this was the only decent spot he found that day because once he was out of the garage Nolan came up behind him, speeding up like a maniac. Brendan sped up too, and usually he wasn't even that quick but he really managed to get his legs working on that one, probably to outrun not only Nolan but his feelings too. 

Nolan, having already ran after Skinny-Dave before, couldn't keep up any longer and came to a crawl, gasping loudly. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Brendan curved into an alley and came to a abrupt halt just right before he would've crashed into this bricked wall before him. He bent over, hands stemmed over his knees and began to shake with his hard breathing. When he looked up he realised the big mistake he'd done: This was dead man's corner. 

Well, he couldn't do much about that now. Nolan probably caught his breath by now, figured where Brendan was running towards and took on the rest of the chase. 

Brendan heard footsteps coming up behind them, crunching up the ting pebbles. This surely didn't sound like a pissed-off maniac who needed to grapple him to death to take his anger out on him—which was a conclusion that kept Brendan relatively calm. But his heard was still skipping a nervous beat and his breath was shaky, really damn shaky. 

He felt an arm coming around his waist, then another. Closely followed by a voice whispering into his ear, feeling like warm honey was directly poured into it. "Manhunt, one, two, three." He whispered softly, hugging his waist from behind which made Brendan feel all warm and tingly. 

Another whisper came, by his other ear. Brendan had to close his eyes, keeping his mouth slightly parted like he was about to moan or something. "Manhunt, one, two, three..."

And back to his other ear, so close now, almost kissing him. "Manhunt, one, two, three...I got you, Brendan."


	7. Chapter 7

Brendan swivelled in Dave's embrace, coming around to face him. And it must've been truly surprising that this nut came back a few days earlier than expected, but when Brendan saw his face that was the least of his concerns. He was too taken aback by those new tattoos adorning his face.  

Dave, had three fucking tattoos, one over his eyebrow, another on his temple and the last one on his cheekbone right next to his eye.

"Who did you... kill?" Brendan said slowly, addressing the little teardrop made of ink instead of saltwater. He was still having trouble keeping his breath steady. 

"Aaron."

"Aaron Sotoson?"

"Just Soto."

Brendan smirked idiotically. "Well, you might have to get that removed then, because Aaron Soto still out and about." He raised a hand and brought it to the teardrop tattoo, rubbing his thumb over it. "Oh wow," He muttered. "It's actually real, huh?"

"Real like you and me, baby" Dave smirked, leaning over with a titled head. Brendan pushed him off, his eyes darting to the mouth of the alley. "Someone's coming up, we need to bounce."

"Want me to show you how to hide properly from these ass-lickers?"

"Yeah! Sure! Let's go!"

Bren moved to run but Dave grabbed his sleeeve and pulled him back. He lowered his voice into a dangerous whisper close by his ear, "Why ain't you ever come visit me?"

Brendan faltered, looking at the ground like he could find an answer there. He didn't. "Stuff has kept me busy. Sorry?"

"Dunno."

Dave cocked his eyebrows up, glancing down at Brendna with his head titled up. Brendna immediately accepted the challenge, he took in a long glance of Dave, drinking in the sight of seeing him after all those weeks without him. 

Those weren't the worst three weeks of his life, admittedly, he could probably ease himself through a year without Dave if it really came down to it, but once his lips were pressed against his slightly chapped ones he realised what he missed out of; A fucking psycho in his most liveliest of forms. It was a bit scratchy at first but once coated with salvia it was alright, slipping around with Brendan's. 

Brendan suddenly got an idea, he leaned away from Dave's face which washed over with confusion at his early pullout, and crammed in his shoulder bag. 

He had to squeeze through a bunch of tiny dime bags to reach the wand-shaped thing but when he did he brought it to the surface triumphantly and snapped the cap off. 

"You fuckin' need this." Brendan explained himself, applying a thick smear of cherry-flavoured chapstick which didn't give off any colour but cheated the heaven out of any lips—the softness of heavens clouds anyway. 

Dave tried to dodge away from the attack on his lips but couldn't do anything when Brendan had him pinned against the wall, smearing on the tenth layer by now. 

Oh well, maybe it did have some colour after all. Dave's lips were faintly pink, so lovely! And it was kinda cute, Brendan felt the amusement wear off and turn into something warmer in his belly. 

Having him pinned instead of the other way around made him feel somewhat protective of Dave, as if Dave wasn't that much stronger than him after all and Brenda could easily take it on with him with a promising outlook of winning and not ending up in a pool with his own blood choking on his own teeth. 

Dave probably just went easy of Brendan and didn't even make a real attempt to shrug him off, but he still felt like that. 

"I like you too, I think. At least a little." Brendan said, not giving him time to react as he closed the space between them with a kiss despite the nearing footsteps and shouts coming from the distance. There must've been at least three hunters in a tow coming at them.

But Dave did seem to react after all, Shit. Those lips were practically eating him. Brendan gave off a muffled groan and tried not to let his head snap from his neck from the force Dave pressed into him. 

Before he knew it Brendan was the one pinned against the brick wall, touched up with rough kisses that made his lips pulsate. This might've escalated into a hot heavy make-out session and their friends busting in on them just when hands wormed into briefs, hadn't Brendan pushed him off him, dragged his sleeve over his smirk, and told him to lead the way. 

Dave panted slightly, but relapsed into his strong form quickly. He ran a hand through Brendan's temple down to behind his ear for a last time before he parted and nodded towards the corner. 

"Nobody seems to have grown a brain to figure this out themselves," He began, walking over to a trash can that had a few pizza cartoons on top. When he shoved it aside they cluttered onto the ground. "but you just have to remove that thing and sneak away thru' this trap door."

This newfound fact pissed Brendan off, after all he'd wasted plenty of HIS time looking for this cheating son of a bitch. "So, basically you're just a big cheat? Not some super genius with a useless talent?"

Dave kneeled by the trap door, looking up at him. "You callin' me a cheater?"

"Exactly what I just said."

"I'm not a cheater!" Dave exclaimed lamely. "If I'm a cheater Skinny-Dave is a cheater. He tried to cheat himself out of his game by getting run over from a car to get to the afterlife where surely none nobody could've caught him there on!"

Brendan heard the noises of hunters dangerously close and gestured for him to go on. "Move over, I'll push the can back."

"You called me a cheater!" Dave protested. What a fucking bitch. Was he for real getting so defensive over this fact? He must fucking love this shitty game which Brendan only cared about insofar that it passed time. 

"Who gives a shit!?"

"I do!"

"Well, then I'm fuckin' sorry you're giving a shit, you punk bitch!"

Brendan huffed loudly, fell to his knees and hands and took it upon himself to squeeze through the trap door. It was kinda funny that he didn't just do this sooner because Dave didn't hinder him from doing so and after crawling behind Brendan he pulled the trash can back himself. 

Brendan gave him a flat look, standing up on the other side. They've come out in the next block. "Now was that so fucking hard?"

Dave ignored him. He climbed back on his feet without using his arms at all, had them balled at his sides and got into Brendan's face. "You're apologising."

"For what?" Brendan asked ridiculously, letting his bottom lip hang low. 

"Callin' me a cheater at my own game."

"Honey, I'll call you a cheater at your other game too if you're not quitting that childish act."

"What other game?"

"You know, the one involving your penis." Brendan shrugged lazily. It slowly dawned upon him that he was talking to Me-Crazy and talking to him like that was like having a death wish. He just tended to forget that more often now because his views of the murderous Me-Crazy kinda got clouded over with all that soft and gentleness towards him. 

Brendan was the one to break out of the staredown first. "So you're gonna hit me if I don't, or what?"

"Honestly? I don't want to hurt you but you're being a real bitch again."

Brendan looked back at him, slightly hurt actually. "You decided to date someone with a bitchy personality and now you're complaining about them being bitchy? What, did you think you'd change me? Kinda like freeze the sun into a snowball?"

Dave blinked. "We're... dating?"

"Come on, dude."

"Okay, fine. Don't apologise. Just keep in mind you're a bitch all often. I'm not gonna hit you, ass-licker." He nodded over Brendan's shoulder and Brendan glanced over it. "We'll make a round around that houseless yard, get in through my alley and rest will figure."

"Thats a playground." Brendan pointed out.

"There's no equipment, looks like a yard to me."

"Why'd you need equipment on a basketball court. Don't you see the hoop, dickhead."

"Are we seriously arguing about this?"

"I wasn't done with the other argument so I need to finish something."

Dave turned around to him, exasperated, then his expression softened. "I don't want to change you, all right? would be pretty boring if I could, wouldn't it? Your bitchy side brings the pimp out of me."

Brendan brought a hand to his heart, he looked fucking awed at this. "Dave..." He said, his voice barely a whisper. "That's by far the sweetest thing you've said to me."

Dave cupped his warm palm on Brendan's cheek, locked his eyes with him for a loving moment, then they both bursted out laughing at the same time. It got Brendan so bad that he had to lean his face against Dave's neck, his body shaking from the outburst. 

"I'm just so g-glad you're back." Brendan sputtered.

"You're very confusing." Dave returned which made Brendan laugh harder. He was sure someone was watching them from the windows in the housing projects behind them, but he didn't really care about this because of Me-Crazy's status of beating people to shit.

 

. . .


	8. NSFW

Brendan walked quietly next to Dave, lagging behind from time to time as he found a stone in his path and kicked it forward. The third time he did that it skidded against Dave's timberland boots, causing Dave to halt. He bent down to grab it then flung it at Brendan's feet. 

Brendan jumped out of the way just when the pebble collided with the ground and bounced right back up, and because Brendan landed right by Dave's side he used his arm as a heavy bag, pawing at it in the pretence of boxing him K.O. 

As they neared the basketball court, with its vibrant blue fence, he slowly remembered where they were going and became all tense. He folded his arms in front of his chest. "Is your dad home?"

"No." Dave said pleasantly. "Why?"

"I kinda got beef with him." Brendan gave up the fight with Dave's arm and just slung his arms around it, leaning his cheek against Dave's shoulder.

Dave gave him a side-glance. "With my dad?" 

"Yeah. Kinda broke into your room the other day."

"Why'd you do that,"

"You know, kinda missed you."

"Okay. And yet you still didn't wanna go visit me?"

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Oh, let it go. After what happened I didn't wanna be anywhere near that shithole."

Dave kept his eye on him, furrowing his brows. "That incident with Ginger boy still bother you?"

"Holy shit." Brendan let go off Dave and continued walking the path alone again, trailing his pinky along the courts fence. "Just stop, okay? Let's just go fuck or something. Make up for the missed days. Your mom away too?"

"Yeah," Dave was back to his smug look, lowering his lids to give him a bedroom look. It was silly but also kinda turned him on. 

Brendan grazed his bottom lip lightly, increasing his step into a jog with which he built up quite a distance to Dave, who stayed behind because he sparked up a cigarette with his hands cupping the flame, before they came together in front of his building again. 

Brendan buzzed the intercom just to check if Dave was being honest and when nobody answered he got a mocking look from Dave. 

"Mister Willy don't answer anybody. He's lazy even in death." He was talking about his deceased uncle who used to live with them for a while after a car accident made a vegetable out of him and his disability checks kept them from being evicted for a third time. 

Dave used to crack jokes about how Uncle Willy always asked to jerk him off because he couldn't do it himself, and Dave did do it, but he used his dad's pocket pussy and put it back into his drawer without cleaning it up. Pretty gross, but funny

Up in Dave's apartment Brendan held his breath as they passed through the living room because it smelt so insultingly of the chemical smell of crack that he felt like he'd get high just inhaling it, then took in a giant breath once they entered his room and the door closed shut. 

Dave noticed the log made of clothes and immediately asked about it. 

"Oh yeah, that was me. I made it when I broke in."

"Did you hump that shit?" Dave asked as he walked over and inspected the log for any possible cum stains. 

Brendan snorted. "Nah, was only able to hug it before your dad busted in and I gave him a wrong idea about what bulgairs really do. We should check later if he added my name to the shit list he keeps on the fridge."

"Sounds like fun, and yeah sure. He prolly got you on it anyway after that one time you stole his glass pipe."

"Yeah..." Brendan shrugged his arms out of his jacket and let it fall to the ground with a dull thump. The noise made Dave turn around, glance down at it with his lips parted before they tugged into a smirk as he began watching Brendan strip down by the door.

Brendan lazily pulled his belt from the needle, letting his pants drop to the floor in a pool with his jacket. He flashed Dave an innocent smile, thinking he'd like that. And he did, Dave admired his half-naked body from afar, blowing the last smokes from his cigarette out slowly.

When Brendan fingers slid under his briefs he swung his hips around in a little dance as he tugged them down, and as they fell around his shoes he still didn't reveal too much because his shirt fell over his erection down to the middle of his thighs, leaving enough to Dave's imagination. 

Dave flicked the cigarette into the corner as he sauntered over to his TV, opened the drawer it was placed on and produced a small bottle of lube out from it. He stepped in front of Brendan, picked both ends of his shirt and rubbed the double-fold hem between his index fingers and thumbs. 

He kissed him, so soft at first that it felt Brendan was making out with the air around him, then when the kiss deepened his hands wandered up Brendan's waist, clawing into his skin, twisting it lightly.

Brendan exhaled flatly, bucking his hips into Dave's and got humped at in response. This action sent a buzz down his spin that went straight to his groin. 

Their lips grew more energetic, grazing against each other. Brendan responded to Dave's roughness to a more levelled harshness, pushing up against him, allowing his teeth to tug at Dave's bottom lip before he sunk back kissing him.

Dave broke up the kiss first which was surprising thinking about how he loved all that soft bullshit which wasn't that soft that day and went over ghosting Brendan's neck with his mouth, his hot breath licking at his skin, while Brendan half-assedly unbuckled his belt. 

When he didn't make much progress he felt Dave's hands mingling with his own, taking on the job of twisting the belt off himself. He pulled his fly apart and let his erect cock out which Brendan immediately started to fondle. He had just really missed that thing, it brought him so much joy.

Suddenly he felt something wet and sticky coating his palm. At first he feared that Dave had come a little too early, but when he glanced down he saw that Dave had splashed a generous amount of lube on it and he himself was smirking at Brendan. 

"Precautions, right?" He said. 

Brendan snorted, nodding faintly. His lips were occupied with Dave's again who kissed him very hard this time around. It all kinda got more rougher then, having their cocks out in the free seemed to turn them into maniacs by lust.

The dry humping with the friction of Brendan's long shirt separating their cocks left Brendan gasping for air and lead him up to a sudden yelp. He pushed back from the kiss, gasping for breath under Dave's puzzled stare. He nearly came right then on his chest, that kinda scared him. 

While he caught his breath he let some undesirable gory images flash through his mind to tone his arousal down a little—because it surely wouldn't make him last that long with how high it presently was—then breathed a 'Okay, continue,' to Dave and they continued. 

Dave didn't hold back even a little, he attacked him with a series-long stormy kiss, grinding his groin into Brendan like a maniac that nearly got Brendan to trip out of balance, but he caught himself by curling a leg around Dave. Big mistake. Because that just served in opening up the way for Dave and he didn't hesitate to press back into his spread legs, leading his cock to his entrance. 

"Fuck," Brendan cursed, screwing his face up. Dave just laughed breathily. 

The pain paralysed him for a moment, it was either the new position they were trying or the fact he didn't get it for a month, but once it settled down a little he swooned towards the ache every time Dave pulled out a little just to squeeze himself up farther than the last time. 

"You holding up?" 

Brendan noticed that the reason he hadn't actually swooned to the floor yet was the strong hold of Dave's arms around his middle, and nodded. "J-just so..."

"Wanna move it to the bed?" He added more gently. 

Brendan almost cried out of appreciation of the mentioning of getting to lie down, but ended up making a silly remark about his mattress. "Yeah, bed."

Dave snorted. He kept one arm looped around his back while he used the other to lift up the leg Brendan kept curled around him, and lifted him up. 

It was kinda clumsy hold but there was something about feeling like you'd drop onto the ground any moment that was really fucking hot. Dave carried him over to the mattress and grinded right into him once his back connected with the crinkly blanket that was draped atop and felt dry as fuck, causing quiet moans to escape from Bren's open mouth. 

He was right, it was because of the position that caused him more pain, because on the mattress it all because bearable enough to feel the bouts of pleasure here and there. 

He stretched his arms out, entwining his hands together over his head. It allowed Dave a more open view of his body and he didn't shy away from letting his gaze fly all over him. Brendan didn't need to open his eyes to know that he was beholding him like that.

"You're beautiful." Dave said suddenly. This almost threw Brendan out of the bliss that was fogging up his brain. He squinted up at Dave. 

"You're literally in my ass right now, so say something fucking dirty, punk."

Dave splayed his hands on Brendan's hips, pressing his weight down on him as he thought of something. "Blood. Tears. I like it when you cry, would fucking use your tears as lube to fuck you with, or blood." He licked his lips, probably still tasting a tang of cherry. "Would you consent if I asked to slice your throat open to keep your ass nice and wet?"

"Oh god,"

"Too dirty for you?" Dave rasped, looking pretty content with himself. But Brendan shook his head, feeling the air turning brick-solid in his lungs. His legs were shaking slightly next to Dave's moving body, then clamping around him so tightly Dave had to force himself through them to keep it moving.

"I think... I'm gonna come, ah—fuck."

"Good!" Dave paced up to the good news, bricking his face up in concentration as he rocked forth, thrusting deep inside Brendan who twisted his hand under his shirt, trying to keep his dick from exploding all over himself. But another thrusts landing home brought him to the edge and pushed it out of him. He came all over his hand, learning out between his fingers.

Dave shoved all his length into him as he lowered himself to connect their lips and then another thing happened Brendan wasn't really prepared for; Dave came right inside him, not pulling out till the last drop drained out of him. 

Brendan barely moved his lips, freezing up momentarily as the wave of pleasure washed over him like static and made him feel electric and laden. He got hypersensitive to everything that touched him, but didn't mind it. He rubbed his inner thighs against Dave's sides, sighing pleasantly. 

When Dave pulled out he half-assedly cleaned some of the sticky spunk up with a shirt he picked at random from the log then rolled over onto his side next to Brendan and lit a cigarette up. The smoke rose hazily towards the crummy ceiling. "Missed yah," He said. 

"Uh-huh," Brendan said, smiling satisfied as he tugged his shirt down over his softening dick, before he rested an arm across his stomach, fumbling with the wet spot just over his belly button on the soft material. 

For a while he just enjoyed the simplicity of the empty calmness that settled in after the high levels of emotions, it was like letting a cool breeze in at the end of the day on a hot summer night. 

Dave brought the cigarette between Brendan's plump lips, feeding him with the smoke. Brendan inhaled deeply, exhaling it towards the ceiling together with some breathy laughter. Dave didn't question it, his hormones seemed all over the place just the same; he still looked kinda hard despite just having come.

"Need a quick hand?" Brendan asked, still chuckling lightly. 

"Nah. You'd work on it all day. It's kinda always like this when you're around."

"For real?" Brendan asked, visibly surprised. No wonder he was so fight-horny all the time, apparently high testosterone levels keep you up like this.

"Yeah, dude, for real."

Brendan smiled quietly for himself towards the ceiling with the lightbulb hanging down from the middle. That new fact that he could keep someone hard just by existing kinda made him proud. It really did. They passed the cigarette back and forth until the burned down to the filter and Dave sent it after the other one into the corner. 

That was kinda lazy, how he didn't just get a ashtray to do this job instead of letting the stumps pile up there. But then again, at least Brendan knew now what to get him for his birthday. 

Dave put a third cigarette for the day between his lips, about to spark it to action, but Brendan stopped him. He had something to confess and felt like now was the best moment. 

"I have a baby by the way."

Dave sat up a little, looking down at Brendan with his eyes falling with horror to his stomach. Bren stared back at him for a long time before it clicked. He laughed up. "No, not like that—" He stopped himself. It would actually be fucking hilarious if—"Yes. I mean, ye-ah, exactly like that. Dave," 

Brendan downcasted his eyes and placed a hand on his stomach, rubbing it in slow gentle circles. "I'm pregnant. That damn condom you didn't use!"

Dave slowly brought the lighter back to the end of his cigarette, not breaking his eyes away from Brendan's stomach. He was wordlessly making him go on. 

"That's the reason I didn't visit you, those hormones sure make everything ten times more stressful than it actually is. Like, I was freaking out over not being able to open a jar of pickles, can you believe that? And I ate them too."

"So...you're pregnant?" Dave said thoughtfully. "That explains the moodiness, don't it! You being bitchy 'n all."

Fucking what? Brendan almost broke out of character when he said this, that was so rude! How could he use this moment to complain about his bitching again. But he got his act together just the same and nodded. "Yeah, that's right. All symptoms of a good old pregnancy."

"So I'm not gay then?"

"What,"

"Only girls get pregnant."

Brendan stared blankly at him. This was not happening, his brilliant prank was not backfiring. Shit, Brendan ran up with heat and slammed his fist into Dave's arm. "I'm not a girl! I'm not pregnant either! Goddamnit. You're just as dumb for believing me."

Dave chuckled merrily with smoke puffing out of his mouth. "Then why you say you got a baby?"

"Because I do."

Dave's face wiped out of amusement. He brought his brows together. "What, you're for real now? You got a kid?"

"Yeah, I do. My dad should be with him right now. If you want I'll show him to you. How about?"

Dave took a long drag from his stupid cigarette, squinted his eyes and exhaled it in a single trail towards the TV. "What'd you name him? He's got a name, right?"

"Yeah, it's Clyde."

"Cool."

"So, do you?"

"What?"

"Do you want to see him? Just say yes or no because I gotta bounce soon and see him."

Brendan nearly ripped the cigarette out of Dave's mouth when he brought it to his mouth again, inhaling for an awfully long time before his lips were free to form an answer again.


End file.
